Blank Canvas
by EmLovesYouu
Summary: Post-Yanks In The UK - All week she'd been denying the fact that her and Jack, had indeed, broken up. - The Five Stages of Grief.
1. Denial

**After watching the second half of 'Yanks In The UK' last night, I realised just how sad it is towards the end. So I decided to write this story. It's set after Angela and Hodgins break up, though minus the part where Angela calls Brennan.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter One: Denial**

"Angela, are you okay? Brennan asked, after watching her friend stare at the blank canvas in front of her for an hour. It wasn't _all_ that out of the ordinary; Angela would often sit there and wait for inspiration or an idea to come. Though, usually she had a pencil in her hand, or in her hair, or resting above her ear. Today, she held nothing. She was just sitting there staring.

"Pardon?" she answered, only then becoming aware of Brennan's presence.

"I asked if you're okay," Brennan repeated, only to be met by silence. "Are you?"

Sighing, Angela said, "yes and no. To be honest I have no idea."

Brennan sat down on the artist's leather couch and asked, "do you want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about," Ange snapped, getting up from her chair and moving to sit at her desk.

Recalling what she had witnessed numerous times throughout the course of the week, Brennan said, "do you and Dr Hodgins have a fight? I noticed that the two of you haven't been as happy in the past few days. In fact, I haven't seen you talk to each other at all."

"It's nothing, Brennan. It was just a bit of a disagreement, a misunderstanding. Nothing to worry about," Angela brushed it off easily.

During the past four days, Angela had begun what some would call 'The Five Stages of Grief'. All week she'd been denying the fact that her and Jack, had indeed, broken up. 'They hadn't meant it', she kept telling herself. It had happened in the spare of the moment. They were both overwhelmed by the whole dilemma with Grayson, that it just became too much for a moment. They couldn't have broken up over one conversation. Not after everything. Not after almost losing him to the Gravedigger, or his countless marriage proposals, or their _almost_ wedding. Those sort of events bind people together. That sort of bond doesn't just disintegrate in one conversation. Hodgins would come back, or she'd go back to him. Either way, they hadn't broken up.

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Hodgins sat up in bed, waiting for her to return home; even though she hadn't all week. He just sat there and looked around. He took in their room and all of her belongings that littered their bedroom. Her perfumes and make up still lay scattered across the vanity next to the wardrobe, which was filled mostly by her clothes. Her toothbrush was still in the cup by the bathroom sink. All of her stuff was here, except the part her wanted most; _her_. Despite all her things in their usual spots, her side of the bed was empty, cold and untouched.

They hadn't actually broken up, had they?

No, Jack told himself. It had only been a stupid argument, fuelled by the frustration of Grayson disturbing their peace. He was just letting her cool down, that's why he hadn't dragged her home with him and pressed her for the reason why she hadn't been sleeping beside him for the last three nights. And she probably thought that _he_ needed to cool off, and was just giving him some unnecessary time. They'd figure it out soon enough.

Jack lay awake for hours, staring blankly at the empty sheets beside him, praying that the day they'd be filled again wouldn't be too far off.

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Zack stared at the man sitting across from him. Hodgins visited him every second Saturday; every Saturday if he had the time. He'd always come in and tell Zack all about the cases they'd been working on and keep him up to date on sports scores and other news. He was always animated and lively and making jokes about crazy people and mental institutions just to see Zack smile. That was Hodgins.

Though today was different. He seemed half-hearted when he spoke. It was though his passion had been drained from him. He didn't talk about Angela; that was the big giveaway.

"Why aren't you talking about Angela?" Zack asked, when he could not come up with a reason himself.

"I don't know. Not much to say at the moment," Hodgins replied bluntly, his fists clenching a little on the table between them.

"You always have something to say about Angela. You often tell me the same thing about her three or four times in one conversation."

Sighing, Jack said, "I don't know. We just had a bit of a fight. It'll work itself out."

"You didn't break up, did you?" Zack asked wearily.

"No," Jack scoffed. "Of course not."

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**And we're at the end of the first chapter. I know it's short but I'll try and make the next chapters longer. What did you think? Please review and let me know.**

**Em xXxXxxx**


	2. Anger

**Here's the second chapter.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter Two: Anger**

His anger boiled over once again as he snapped at this week's intern, Mr Anders. He hadn't done anything too serious, just mislabelled two soil samples; a problem he could fix with the blink of an eye. Though, this small error had been the last straw for Hodgins, causing him to yell and make a fuss. Once Mr Anders had left the room, Hodgins sank into the closest chair, running his hand over his unshaven face.

"I'm an idiot," he muttered under his breath, though he wasn't just referring to scaring one of the interns out of the room.

Remembering back to the painful truth he had realised the previous night, he snapped again and swung his fist into the closest solid object. The grates from the filing cabinet left scratches right across his knuckles, drawing blood in a few spots Rubbing the blood from his aching hand against his jeans pocket, he cursed loudly.

He didn't care, but his swearing attracted many Jeffersonian employees to turn and look at him through the glass doors; one of the employees being Angela.

It had struck him late the night before and after that he hadn't got a wink of sleep. It had been two weeks. She wasn't coming back, and just that thought alone brought Jack Hodgins to tears. The tears weren't or sorrow, they were of anger. He was angry at Angela for leaving. He was also angry at himself for allowing her to. Each time that conversation in the diner replayed in his mind, it only made him angrier.

They hadn't spoken since.

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Hearing a bit of an uproar across the lab, Camille snapped off her gloves and left the corpse on the table in front of her to find out what was causing such a racket.

"Dr Hodgins!" Cam said in shock.

He spun to face his boss, his toes throbbing after making contact with the desk, and stopped yelling as he saw the expression on her face.

"_What_ is wrong with you today?" she asked.

"I...umm...just a little angry," he said, avoiding her eyes.

Cam noticed him snap the elastic band around his wrist quickly. She sighed. He hadn't had to use that for years; not since him and Angela begun dating.

"A little? You need to control your anger, Dr Hodgins," she told him sharply and turned to leave.

"Dr Saroyan?" he called, not loud enough for anyone out of the room to hear, and waited until he had gained her full attention before speaking. "Angela and I broke up."

The connection between Hodgins' anger and the elastic band clicked in her mind. "Oh, Hodgins," she said sympathetically. "I'm sorry. I truly am."

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Walking down the corridor leading to Angela's apartment door, Brennan's ears pricked up at the sound of a crash. Rushing to Angela's door and quickly retrieving the spare key Angela had given her, she opened the door and took in the sight before her.

It was a mess, and it took her a moment before she spotted her friend in amongst it all. Angela sat, wearing her pyjamas, surrounded by half-painted canvas' strewn across the beige carpet of the lounge room floor.

She hadn't heard Brennan come in, and jumped a little at her voice. "Ange? What's all this?"

"Jesus, Bren! Give a girl some warning before you jump on her like that," Angela screeched after almost losing her balance on her chair at the sound of her friend.

"I didn't jump on you," Brennan stated in confusion.

"It's a saying," Angela replied. "I'm _trying_ to paint, but I just can't seem to get it right."

Glancing around the room again, Brenna realised what was being painted on the canvas'. Hodgins. She didn't understand what Ange was talking about. It she hadn't known better, she could have sworn Hodgins was there. They were so alike it was surreal.

"Ange, they look fine. Perfect, even" Brennan commented, admiring a particularly happy portrait of the entomologist.

"They are _not_ fine, they're not even close. I can't get it right and I don't know why. It's like in just two weeks I can't remember the tiniest details. It's like they've been erased from my mind," Angela said frustrated, getting up to dump her dishes in the kitchen sink, clattering loudly. "It's ridiculous."

"I thought we were going out for dinner," Brennan asked, unsure whether she should have even bothered.

"Sorry, Bren, I just got preoccupied," she apologised, chucking her paints angrily into a large tub. "It's freaking bullshit."

"You're just angry."

"Angry? I'm not angry. I'm furious!" Angela raised her voice, and came to stand in front of her, Brennan noticing just how large the bags under her eyes were. "He didn't trust me. After _everything_, he didn't trust me! And, we broke up. We _literally_ broke up. We were going to get married! And have a hundred kids and live happily ever after in his huge mansion. But, _no_, he has to go and cause problems and break up!"

"Okay, we won't go out for dinner," Brennan said, completely unaware of what she could say to make Angela feel better.

"Married. We were gonna get _married!_" she repeated, appearing to have calmed down for a moment, but then fired up again. "It's complete and utter bullshit!"

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**There's the end of this chapter. I know the characters (mostly Angela) may seem a little OOC, but they never really grieved on the show much, so I didn't have much to go off. Please review and let me know what you thought.**

**Em xXxXxxx**


	3. Bargaining

**Here's the next chapter.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter Three: Bargaining**

_Hodgins, I'm sorry. _

_I should have trusted you and I should have done more to make you trust me. I shouldn't have kissed Grayson. I know I said it was just a goodbye kiss, which it was, but that still doesn't make it okay. I know you have every reason to never trust me again, but I just need to say that I'm sorry. Pleas, can't we just forget it all happened and go back to how we were before Grayson showed up at the Jeffersonian? Back when all I wanted was to spend my days as your wife, making love for hours on end, not a care in the world. When being completely and totally in love with you didn't hurt so much. When I could come into work and not have to spend the entire day avoiding being in the same room as you. _

_Even if we don't forget about this whole mess and just work through it. I don't care because I still want all the same things I did a month ago. I probably want them more now, knowing what it feels like to not have any part of you at all. I just want to ask you for a chance. If you don't want to give me one, then don't feel obliged to. I made my choice, and it's my fault, not yours, that I now want to change it. At least think about it. Please. Once again, I'm sorry._

_You'll always have my love, Angela xoxo_

Folding the paper neatly, Angela placed it in an envelope and licked the seal closed. Quickly scrawling the familiar address on the front, and fixing on a stamp, she put it inside her handbag for her to post later that day.

It had become too much. The churn in her gut every time she saw him. The ache in her heart when little things painfully reminded her of moments she'd had with him. She wanted to be able to just walk up to him and wrap her arms around his waist or just kiss him, and for no one to think twice about it.

She wanted him back.

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All week Angela had been a nervous-wreck. Every time she saw Hodgins walk near her, she worried that he was coming to confront her about the letter he had received in the mail.

Little did she know, that the postman who picked up her letter, along with hundreds of others, was involved in a car accident on his way back to the factory where all the mail got sorted. His van had collided with a Ford V8 and all the letters he had on him perished in the fire that had very near ended the postman's life.

That letter would never reach Jack Hodgins; who would never know what he was seemingly passing up.

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He had been sitting in the same spot for exactly two hours, nineteen minutes and eleven seconds. The majority of which he spent with his eyes glued to the phone on the wall. Should he? Shouldn't he?

Maybe he shouldn't. It was obvious that she wanted to move on. She hadn't spoken to him at all since the break up. She'd been acting so awkward around him, the past week especially. Maybe that meant she had already forgotten him. Already moved on.

Or maybe he should. If she was truly over him, she'd be comfortable around him, able to have a conversation with him; which she couldn't. He should. He definitely should. He _would_. He couldn't do nothing. Just sitting there is one of the things that lead to all of the _what if's?_ He didn't want to live life always wondering if they could have had another chance.

Pressing speed dial, Hodgins raised his shaking hand to his ear. The phone rang, and rang, and rang, until her voicemail picked up:

_Hi, you've reached Angela. Please just leave a message and I'll get back to you._

"H-Hey, Angie. It's Jack...uh...it's Hodgins. I would've preferred to actually speak to you, but if I don't do this now, I'll lose my nerve. I'm _so_ sorry. God, I feel like such an idiot letting you go. Because now, all I want is to have you back. I know I need to trust you, which I do. I'm an angry man, and having Grayson come to the Jeffersonian pissed me off. You're beautiful, so damn beautiful, and having a man twice the size of me pining after you was not something I liked. He made me feel so small and unworthy in comparison to you," Hodgins sighed, taking a deep breath before he continued, "it's been weeks, so I know there's a chance that this really is permanent and that you're moving on as I leave this message. I get that. But I can't do that. I can't move on from the best thing that's ever happened to me knowing that we didn't finish what we started. So please, just call me back when you get this, so we can talk. So I can tell you how much I love you and how much I want you back in my arms. I miss you, Angie. I miss you and I want you back. Please, just think about it. I love you. Bye."

Replacing the phone in the receiver, Jack couldn't tell whether he was relieved, pr if he was more anxious than he was before.

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Hodgins had hardly slept that night. Or the three nights after that. Angela had not shown any sign that she had listened to his message; maybe she was trying not to. He had half expected to have come in the morning after he called her and have her jump into his arms, forgiving him for being so stupid. She didn't. She acted exactly the same.

It got to the point where not knowing was doing his head in. It got to the point where he just had to ask.

"Angela?" Jack asked nervously from her office doorway.

Looking up in shock, she replied, "yeah?"

Clearing his throat to break some of the silence, he asked, "I was just wondering if you got the message I left you on Sunday night?"

"Oh, my phone is broken. Something about the battery, or maybe it was the memory. But, yeah, I won't be able to get it. Was it anything important?"

"No, nothing important," Hodgins lied straight through his teeth. "Just something about the case, which I figured out anyway."

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**Please review and let me know what you thought.**

**Em xXxXxxx**


	4. Depression

**I've been so slack the last few weeks. This chapter is the fourth stage and will be the second last chapter. A lot of dialogue, but there was a lot to be said.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter Four: Depression**

"Hodgins, I have something for you," Cam called from the forensics platform, down to Hodgins who sat at his station gazing off into the distance.

As he walked over, his shoulders slumped, his feet dragged and his head hung low; a much different mood to that he was normally in.

"What is it?" Hodgins asked, swiping his card.

"It is a Schaus Swallowtail Butterfly, which you would most likely know as Papilio Aristodemus Ponceanus," Cam said, adding, "brought over from Florida and sent here, directly to you."

She did not receive the ecstatic response she was expecting. There was no jumping up and down or insistent blabbering about it rarity. There wasn't even a hint of that bright, to-die-for smile or widening of the eyes. There was just a small tug at the corner of his lips and a mumbled 'thanks' before he returned to his desk to examine it.

"Dr Brennan?" Cam asked, causing Brennan to look up from the mandible she was examining.

"Yes, Dr Saroyan?"

"Is it just me or is Dr Hodgins acting very out of character?" she asked, watching the unenthusiastic Hodgins examine the butterfly.

"I was not watching, so I would not be able tell you," Brennan said, returning her attention to the table.

"Hey, Bones!" echoed Booth's voice across the lab.

"Hi, Booth. Have you got a lead?" Brennan asked, her eyes lighting up slightly.

"Kind of. Maybe. I don't know actually. Has Ange finished her sketch yet? She said she'd have it finished for me today," Booth said, looking around the large room.

"No, Angela has called in sick today," Brennan said, "she thinks she may have caught the flu at an art exhibit the day before yesterday. I am not sure when she will be back in."

"Poor, Ange. Flu's a bitch," Booth sighed.

"The flu is not a being, nor is it a female canine, making it quite impossible for it to be 'a bitch'," Brennan said, her eyes still fixed on the bones spread out in front of her.

"Never mind, Bones. I remember when I used to have the flu. Pops would make me chicken noodle soup and let me watch cartoons all day." Booth sighed, "those were the good days. Now I have to sit at home by myself and make my own food."

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Hearing a knock on her door, Angela glanced at the box of chocolates on her lap and then at the hallway and at the chocolates again, before calling out, "come in!"

The squeak of the door and the clicking of heels against the tiles in her hall sounded throughout the quiet apartment.

"Hey, Angela," Brennan announced herself as she walked into the living room. "How are you feeling?"

"Like crap," Angela mumbled, wiping away a few tears that had snuck their way out of the corner of her eyes. She caught a whiff of the smell that was now very prominent and turned to face her friend who was searching through her kitchen cupboard.

"Sweetie," Angela began.

"Yes?" her head popped up from beneath the counter.

"Did you make me soup?" she asked.

"Yes. Chicken noodle," Brennan clarified. "Booth told me today that when he was young his grandfather would cook him chicken noodle soup when he was ill. I figured it was something that you do, on principle."

Using the soup ladle, though it had no handle, Brennan filled a bowl for Angela and brought it down to the couch. "Here you go. Now, I've never made chicken noodle soup before, but I followed the recipe word for word."

"I don't need soup, Bren. I'm not sick," Angela sobbed quietly, startling Brennan.

"You have the flu, which is generally classified as being sick."

"I don't have the flu. I just couldn't stand having to see Hodgins at work today," she admitted, more tears coming.

"I didn't think you were still angry at him."

"I'm not. I can't stand to see him because it hurts like hell. If I went into work toady and saw him, I could guarantee that I would burst into tears more than once. People at the Jeffersonian don't need to see that. _He_ doesn't need to see that."

"You miss him," Brennan said simply, and that's what set her off.

Angela's tears broke free, though she was surprised she had any left, having spent most of her day crying. She collapsed against her friend's side, the tears racking her body so badly that Brennan shook with her.

"W-what's the poi-point in even g-going back to wor-work, if every time I s-see J-Ja-Jack I burst into tears?" Angela cried. "I may as well just qui-quit now."

"You're not going to quit, Ange," she said reassuringly. "I'll tell you why. Because yes, you're sad right now. You're feeling like there's nothing worse that could happen to you. But everyone goes through the five stages of grief. You denied it, you got angry. You skipped the bargaining stage but now you're at depression. The next stage is acceptance. You can move past this and soon enough you and Hodgins will be able to be in the same room and hold normal conversations. You can be friends again. Also, I won't let you quit."

A small hint of a smile snuck onto Angela's face, as she wiped her tear-tracked cheeks with her sleeve. "Thanks, Bren. Sorry about this."

"Don't be sorry. Just eat your soup," Brennan laughed.

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**I hope Brennan wasn't too OOC towards the end here. Please review and let me know what you thought.**

**Em xXxXxxx**


	5. Acceptance

**Here's the final chapter. Thanks for those who have stuck with it.**

**Enjoy :)**

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**Chapter Five: Acceptance**

Wiping the sleep from her eyes, Angela pushed down the covers and swung her legs over the edge of her bed. Stretching her arms and legs, she glanced at the clock and decided she didn't have enough time to have a shower. Making her way into her bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror, about ready to apply her makeup before her thoughts went haywire.

How could so much have happened but everything still appear the same?

Her life had changed dramatically in the last few months; being confronted by Grayson, breaking up with Hodgins, coming an inch close to quitting the best opportunity she'd ever been presented with; but to an outsider, she was just the same as she'd always been. Her hair was still the same dark brown colour, she still had that same tiny freckle on the right side of her nose, her eyes were still the same shade of brown.

You'd think if someone had been knocked around as much as she had, that they'd be left with some sort of a mark. Sure, she had the memories of the countless hours she spent crying, and smashing plates, and eating chocolates while watching romance films. She could remember everything she'd felt, everything she'd thought. She could regret things she _had_ done and the things she _hadn't_ done. But they're all on the inside.

Remember the saying: _What doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger_ ? What's the point in that if you have nothing to show for it. If you're in a car accident, you have the cuts and scars and bruises. But what are the physical implications of heartbreak? None. Because a heart cannot be broken; only crushed.

Shaking herself out of her wandering thoughts, Angela removed her makeup bag from the top drawer. Having been so long since she'd properly bothered with her appearance, it almost re-broke her heart when she lifted it out of the drawer. Beneath where her bag had been was a photo frame that held a photo of Jack and her at their 'almost wedding'. She'd forgotten that she'd hidden it in there, when she finally realised he wasn't returning home. It used to sit next to the basin, and she'd more or less forgotten that it even existed.

Once dressed and presentable, she made herself some toast and a cup of coffee.

She felt good this morning. She was no longer angry or upset with herself _or_ Hodgins. It was good.

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Walking past his front door on the way to the laundry, Hodgins stopped. Stepping back a metre or so, he turned to face the entrance, a confused expression on his face.

Through the rippled glass windows framing the doorway, he could see a figure standing on his porch. Not moving at all; just standing.

After opening the door, Jack saw the person was faced away from him.

"Ange?"

She spun around, her hands behind her back, utterly surprised as she had not even heard the door open or him approach her.

"Jack," she said a little sheepishly.

"How long have you been standing out here?" he queried.

She shrugged, "not long. Maybe, half an hour."

An awkward silence arose between the pair, neither sure what to say or what to do. It had been quite some time since it had been just the two of them alone; a bit of a shock after years of spending the majority of their time together.

"Why exactly were you standing out here for an hour?"

Bringing one of her hands in front of her and looking up into his blue eyes she has missed being able to get lost in, she presented him with a single white rose.

"I know we broke up. And I know you're probably trying to move on but I just have some things I need to tell you," she began, waiting for him to nod before continuing. "Normally I'm the one who gives people relationship advice. I'm the one who is all about emotions and those sort of things. But Brennan, she's been really helpful these past few weeks, months really. I've always known about the Five Stages of Grief, but it seems you're not able to realise you're going through them when you're the one going through them."

Sitting down on the porch steps, Hodgins joined her as she continued, "I've denied that we broke up. I was angry about it. I wrote you a letter, asking for you to take me back; though it seems you never got it. I was so upset that all I could bring myself to do was call in sick and sit on the couch watching depressing movies all day. Bren says the stage after that is acceptance. So it seems, right now, I should be accepting this situation. I should accept that we broke up, that we broke up for a reason, and move on. But now that I'm actually at this stage, I'm not ready to accept that. I don't _want_ to accept that. I don't want to let you go because, honestly, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I miss you, God I miss you so much it hurts. So, that's why I stood here on your porch for half an hour, because I needed to tell you this but I didn't know if I could. The rose; you gave me one when I needed to know that we could be together, that we cold get through this. I though you deserved the same. Jack, please. Please just, take me back."

"Thank God," Hodgins whispered, cupping her face as he brought his lips to hers, bringing them not only together again physically, but in all other aspects as well.

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**THE END!**

**I have to tell you, this chapter was by far my favourite to write. Thanks for reading and I really hope you've enjoyed this story. Please review... I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.**

**Em xXxXxxx**


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